Not Goodbye
by tee-and-rainbows
Summary: With Sam feeling a bit down, Kirby takes it upon herself to plan a date that he won't forget.


After the successful opening night, it was a quiet afternoon in the La Mirage lounge. All the guests were sleeping or drunk (or both), and Sam had the lounge to himself. Well, himself and Kirby. When she had called him that morning complaining of a horrendous hangover (and about Fallon completely screwing up Femperial), he had invited her over. It felt like they never saw each other anymore, and he needed a friend to commiserate with after Anders had snapped at him.

They had collapsed on the sofas in the lounge and taken turns complaining about their respective lives, and it was currently Kirby's turn.

"That's what you get for trying to outsmart Fallon Carrington," Sam said, staring up at the ceiling. "But kudos to you for standing your ground and not selling. I can't imagine what she would do if she became Liam's boss again. Did you know she had me fake-deliver flowers to him just so she could serenade him?" He fell silent. What he would give to have someone serenade him.

"You're joking, right?" Kirby said, sitting up and leaning her elbows on her thighs. "I knew she was crazy, but that's pushing it."

"Love makes you do crazy things, I guess," he replied, falling silent.

"I wouldn't know," Kirby spoke up eventually. Sam merely grunted a response, and another awkward silence fell over the pair.

"You know what you need? A date," the redhead spoke up from the other sofa. Sam lifted his head to stare at her, squinting slightly, and Kirby laughed. "Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. Has there been anyone since Steven?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee he had given her when she first arrived.

Sam groaned. "No," he replied simply, rolling over so he didn't have to look at her.

"That settles it. I'm going to find you a date," his friend chirped. He heard her rise to her feet. "And don't you try to stop me. This will be a nice distraction from the Femperial mess. Don't you worry, Sam. Best case scenario, it's a giant 'screw you' to that plaque in the lobby," she added.

She had a point. Sam sighed, rolling back over and sitting up. "Fine," he agreed, "but he has to be hot."

Kirby smirked. "As if I would set my best friend up with anyone less than perfection," she said, walking to him and patting his shoulder. "Leave it to Matchmaker Kirby."

It had been three weeks. Sam didn't know what Kirby was up to, but after she had promised him a date, he had expected maybe a couple of days, if not a week. But three weeks? Was there really so few gay men in Atlanta? He had a hard time believing it. Oh well.

Thankfully, there had been plenty of distractions. La Mirage was doing alright, even if Ashanti refused to stay there after the opening night debacle. Anders had finally come to his senses and returned to help him, which he was grateful for, and Fallon had kept him on his toes helping her deal with a still-blind Adam. Always at the back of his mind, though, was Kirby's offer to find him a date.

As he sat in his office one afternoon signing paperwork, he finally cracked and pulled out his phone, sending her a quick text.

~Has Matchmaker Kirby lost her touch?~

There was an instant reply.

~Patience is a virtue~

Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair, all too aware that he was sitting in a pose he often associated with Blake Carrington.

~Between the hotel and Fallon and the trial, I'm going crazy here~ he texted her, tapping his foot restlessly.

~I have a lead. Just hang on a little more~

With another long sigh, Sam set his phone to the side and returned to his paperwork.

Finally, she came through for him. Three days later, a text came, telling him to be at Serenity at 8pm that Friday night. Trust Kirby to come through with one of the fancier restaurants in the area. He spent the entire week wondering what the mystery guy would be like.

"Come on, give me a hint," he begged her as she adjusted his jacket and gave his hair a slight muss.

Kirby chuckled. "Not a chance," she said with a cheeky grin, cupping his face. "It's a surprise. But I'll promise you this, he's hot," she said, booping him on the nose before stepping away. "My work is done, and now it's all up to you," she added, gesturing at the door.

Never more grateful that he had access to Carrington assets as he was at that moment, Sam left the manor and stepped into one of the Carrington cars, smiling weakly at the chauffeur. He didn't know why he was nervous. He was Sam Jones, he didn't get nervous. But for some reason, he was. When the car finally arrived at the entrance to Serenity, he sent Kirby a text letting her know he was there.

~The reservation's under your name~ she replied. Sam set his shoulders back and approached the hostess.

"Reservation for Sam Jones," he said, flashing his most charming smile. The woman checked her list and nodded.

"Yes, right this way Mr Jones," she said, leading him to a table in the corner. Nice and private. A little too formal for a blind date, but he supposed Kirby had felt bad for taking so long to figure it all out.

He was given some water while he waited. For fifteen minutes he sat there, glancing around, waiting for whoever it was to arrive, periodically checking his phone. Fallon texted him an SOS, but he ignored it, figuring she could deal with her own problems for once.

"Excuse me… is this seat taken?" The voice came from behind him, and Sam squinted. It was familiar. He turned around, and his jaw dropped. He leapt to his feet.

"Steven?" he breathed, taking in the man's appearance. His eyes traveled from top to bottom in astonishment, and his hand jerked forward, as if to check if he was really there.

"Hey," Steven replied, giving one of those quick fond smiles Sam had used to love, although there was a hint of nerves to it. "You look… great."

Sam still couldn't believe it. "Aren't you supposed to be…" he swallowed, brushing his fingertips against the sleeve of Steven's jacket. "What are you doing here?"

"Kirby called. She said you were in a bit of a slump, and sent me tickets to come see you," Steven explained, still standing an arm's distance away, as if he wasn't sure if it was okay to step closer.

Sam finally managed to shake himself out of his stupor and stepped forward, throwing his arms around Steven. "I can't believe you're really here," he breathed, his left hand feeling strangely light all of a sudden. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Steven replied, hugging him back. "It's been an uphill battle, but I… really think I'm getting better."

Right. The institution. Sam swallowed again. "Are you sure it's okay for you to be here?" he asked, concern laced throughout his voice.

Steven pulled away, hesitating. "The doctor signed off," he finally said, nibbling on his lower lip. "As long as I, uh…" he mimed taking a pill, "then I'm okay. And I have to stay away from any stressors in my life."

Sam glanced away from him, frowning. "Wouldn't seeing me be a stressor?" he asked, perhaps a bit more bluntly than he had intended. He instantly felt bad, seeing Steven flinch.

"I don't consider you one," came the response, in a small voice.

Sam breathed in through his nose, held it, then let it out slowly. He then gestured to the seat opposite from where he had been sitting.

"I really am happy to see you, you know," he said, watching Steven settle into the chair before sitting down, himself. "You wouldn't believe what's been going on here. It's been…" he trailed off, unsure how much he could say.

Steven gave a nervous chuckle. "You can tell me things. I… I know how to handle myself. If it's too much, I'll let you know," he said, reaching across and putting his hand on top of Sam's.

It was hard to forget they were divorced. Sam swallowed another lump in his throat and began telling Steven everything that had been going on. Some things, Steven asked for clarifications, and others, he simply sat there and listened. Sam was able to notice when the other grew uncomfortable, and quickly changed the subject.

Finally, he spoke about the hotel, noticing how Steven's eyes lit up.

"I'm so happy for you," Steven said, squeezing his hand. Sam hadn't even noticed they were still linked, and a jolt of something went through him at the familiar touch. "And proud. You stood your ground, even if you had to keep that plaque."

Sam grinned despite himself. "Yeah, I try to ignore that thing. Opening night was a bit weird, but overall I think it's going well," he said.

The waiter arrived to take their order. Steven spoke up immediately, requesting shrimp scampi and a water, and Sam took that as his cue to avoid alcohol. Instead, he asked for another water and the fettucine chicken alfredo.

"I'd tell you what I've been up to, but honestly it's a bit boring," Steven spoke up once the waiter left. "Lots of group meetings, and soul searching, mostly."

Sam nodded. "You seem well, though," he said, taking a sip of his water. "I think about you a lot. Wonder how you're doing. It's… really great to see you."

Steven nodded in return, offering a terse smile. "It's been hard, but… I know I sent those papers, but… during the hardest moments I would think about you," he admitted, drawing his hand back and twisting both hands together. "Thinking about you kept me grounded."

Sam drew in a sharp breath, watching the other man. He didn't know what to say. "The divorce…" he started, trailing off.

"It was necessary," Steven said, glancing up at him. "I've missed you so much, but… I couldn't be the partner you deserved."

"That's not true," Sam blurted out, reaching across the table. "You were… you are everything to me, Steven." While he had managed to push it all to the back of his mind in the time since Paris, it was the truth. He took one of Steven's hands, holding it tightly in both of his.

Steven closed his eyes, drawing a shaky breath, and Sam paused, worried it was too much.

"I love you, Sam," came the small voice finally, and Sam let out a sigh of relief.

"I love you too," he replied, letting go of Steven's hand as their food arrived.

He tried to stick to more mundane topics as they ate. When they finished, Sam insisted on paying the bill, and Steven didn't protest.

"Not a lot of money to my name right now," he admitted, shyly. Sam only smiled, squeezing his hand.

"No problem," he replied.

Outside the restaurant, Steven hesitated once again. "There's a nurse here with me," he admitted, glancing over his shoulder at a woman who Sam had noticed leaving the restaurant after them. "The doctor agreed I could do dinner, but that was it."

Sam let out a breath, nodding. "I understand," he said, reaching out for Steven's hand. "So you have to go back, now?"

"Unfortunately," came the reply.

"I don't know what the rules are over there, but… stay in touch?" Sam asked, grateful when Steven took his hand, linking their fingers together. The other man nodded, a shy smile in place.

"Of course. I'd really like that," he said, glancing at their linked hands. A moment passed, and Sam wondered if that was it.

Steven stepped forward, then, pressing his lips against Sam's. Sam put his hand on Steven's cheek, smiling into the kiss. It didn't last long, but Sam remained close to Steven, nuzzling his nose against the other's.

"This isn't goodbye," Sam whispered, forehead against forehead. Steven breathlessly agreed, then took a step back, offering a small wave. The Carrington car pulled up, then, and Sam got in, watching as Steven walked over to the nurse.

"So, was he hot?" Kirby asked, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers. She hadn't even turned around when Sam had walked into the room.

Sam's response was to walk across the room, pulling her into a hug. "Thank you," he breathed, squeezing her tight.

"What are friends for?" she replied, hugging him back.


End file.
